


Blue Christmas

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 11:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16660390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Hermione travels to Denver, Colorado to surprise Neville at Christmas after they’d had their first fight.





	Blue Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hermione’s Haven Hideaway 2018. I was given Neville, Blue Christmas, and Denver, Co. Thanks to my sounding board, C, for saving me from yet another meltdown XD

Twilight reflected off blankets of snow and the higher up the mountain her gaze roamed, the brighter blue she’d find. From her perch on the windowsill, Hermione could see peaks that kissed the starlit sky and a brilliant, white moon that made the snow sparkle. The red wine she swirled in her glass warmed her belly and flushed her cheeks, but it certainly didn’t make her feel any better. She placed her head against the cold window pane and fogged up the glass with her long exhale. The night was still, just as the feel of melancholy that wouldn’t budge from her mind. 

Of course he wouldn’t be there, stuck away in a cabin at Christmas. Neville was probably enjoying his holiday without her, and there was no way he was thinking of her anymore. If he was, Neville would be with her and they’d be together and her Christmas wouldn’t be filled with sadness.

He was so excited to find the quaking aspen tree, to research its famous leaves and study their magical properties. He’d been gone for weeks, and she’d barely received an owl. Probably because of their fight. Their first fight. 

It was a stupid idea to travel to Denver.God, she was such an idiot. 

She begged him not to go, to wait until she could travel with him. But he’d told her that the leaves would be falling soon and the camp would disband by the time she could travel. She argued and he was mad that she couldn’t understand his work or why it meant so much. He was gone the next day and she was alone. 

A bright red light caught her eye and she lifted her gaze to it. A campfire flickered and roared and she watched as people sat around it, some in couples and some on their own. They played in the snow and their laughter carried easily through the cabin’s thick window. At least they were enjoying themselves, she thought as she tossed back a large gulp of wine.

Hermione pushed herself from the window and stumbled on uneven footing as she reached for the near-empty bottle of wine. He should have been back by now, should have been the sensible man she knew Neville to be, and come back to the cabin at a reasonable time. 

She glanced at the clock; midnight. Christmas. 

As if to mock her, the small and sparsely decorated Christmas tree lit up. Little red bows fluttered on its tips and the star at the top twinked like a real star. She hated it. The whole damn thing. It was a reminder that he was happy here, celebrating Christmas without her. He didn’t know she’d come, of course. Hermione was going to surprise him, and when she walked in the door the cabin was empty and cold. 

Thank god there’d been wine on the table.

She finished another glass, glaring at the tree the entire time. And then she filled up her glass again, headache tomorrow be damned. Her wand twisted in her free hand and she lit a small fire in the floo, and then ignored the muggles outside as they laughed and carried on without a care in the world. 

The firelight flickered and cast a bright glow off of her cheeks, which were already red from her copious amounts of wine. She stewed in her misery until she finally growled in frustration and began crying. She  _ hated _ crying; not because she felt weak or vulnerable, but because she hated knowing something could affect her so deeply that the only thing she knew to do was to expel those feelings by crying. Useless. It made her feel useless. She’s a woman of action, of grabbing life by its dark bits and demanding it bend to her will. 

Clearly, she wasn’t doing that in Denver. In Denver, she’s sad and crying and it was all very frustrating. 

“Hermione?”

His voice was warm, concerned, confused. She turned toward it and when she saw him, her nearly-finished glass of wine fell to the carpet. Neville’s reflexes were quick and he aimed his wand at the glass. It stopped just before any red stained the cream fabric, and he floated the glass to a nearby coaster.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t move an inch towards her, just watched her closely as she fidgeted with the sleeve of her jumper. Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth and swallowed. Now that he was in front of her, tangible, she wasn’t sure what to do. It was a crazy thing to do, travel around the world without telling him that she was coming. God, he probably thought she was mad. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and then swiped at her eyes with her sleeve. She moved quickly, grabbing her bag and moving towards where he stood blocking the door. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have come.”

She was almost around him, almost to the door and gone, but his hand wrapped around her elbow and he steered her to stand in front of him. With furrowed eyebrows, he scanned her flushed face and the deep red splotches on her cheeks. She felt raw, opened up for him to see whatever it was she felt. 

“Neville.” Her lower lip quivered. His hand reached out for her cheek and she stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” 

“You keep saying that.” Neville’s tone was caught somewhere between annoyed and helpless. “I think there are a lot of things  _ we  _ shouldn't have-”

“No.” She sniffed. Cor, but she was an idiot and she didn’t know how to turn off this feeling that suffocated her. “You wanted to get away and I was selfish and it’s  _ Christmas  _ and I thought-”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and ducked down to capture her gaze. Hermione stopped, breathing, talking, sniffing, moving. This was the Neville that captured her heart all that time ago; the confidence, the certainty, the pure adoration that rolled off him so honestly. 

“Hermione, I’ve really fucking missed you.” He brought a hand to her jaw and held it gently. His thumb swept down along her neck and back up again. 

He was cold, fingers like ice cubes against her heated skin. She hiccuped and stumbled. He moved a hand to her hip to steady her. 

“You have?”

“How much have you had to drink?” 

“Neville, focus.” The irony was lost on her. She brought her hand to his chest and curled her fingers into his warm leather cloak. “You’ve missed me?”

“You’re joking!” He took a small step forward and crowded her space. “Blimey, Hermione, I’ve damn near frozen to death out here trying to take my mind off you.”

A sharp breath escaped her and she licked her lips because she just didn’t know what to do with herself when he was looking at her like he wanted nothing more than to devour her. 

“I didn’t think-”

“That’s not an excuse anyone has  _ ever _ heard from Hermione Granger.” He chuckled and she felt his chest rumble under her hand. “How do you not know that I love you?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Her eyebrows raised and she made a noise and something in her chest roared at his words but she wasn’t sure what it was. It felt primal and proud,

like it won something but she didn’t know what. 

“ _ How _ ?” she asked, unable to stop the question. She turned on the spot and used the wall to steady herself as she watched the fire instead of his face. “I’ve chased you away, like I do with everyone. I chose work over you, like I do with everyone. And then I stalked you around the world because I thought-”

He was at her back, a whole head taller than her. She felt his body, the leather of his cloak grazing against the cotton fabric of her jumper. 

“You thought what, exactly?” Neville’s hands rested on her hips and he rested his chin against the side of her head, breath stirring her curls. 

“I thought…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “It would be easier for me to get over you if I could see that you’ve moved on.”

He spun her around so fast that her vision swam. His hands were on each side of her face and his eyes were level with hers when she finally opened them. 

“I’ve not  _ moved on. _ ” His eyes were softer than his tone. “I have no intentions to move on. Hermione, I love you. Did you hear me?”

“I-” 

He didn’t let her finish. Lips pressed into hers and it was familiar and warm and  _ right _ . He backed her up into the wall and twisted his hands into her hair. She made a noise in the back of her throat and she shoved at his cloak to remove it and its offensive shielding of his body. He shrugged out of it and she thanked him by placing her cold fingers against his abdomen. The muscles there clenched and he hissed against her lips before pulling away. When he stared down at her, it was through dark and needy eyes. 

“Neville,” she whispered. “Tell me again?”

“I love you.” He kissed her again, harder this time, as if trying to prove it. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because,” she took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around his waist, “I love you, too, and that means there’s a lot more to lose.”

“Silly witch.” He pressed his lips to her neck and placed small, chaste kisses up to her ear. “You’re not losing me, not ever.”

“I can’t travel with you.” Her voice grew breathier the more he focused on her neck. 

“We’re wizards, you numpty.” He smiled against her skin and she laughed. “We can use magical transport and be with each other when we have free time.”

“Like Christmas?” She pushed at his shoulders to force him to look at her. “I don’t want to spend Christmas without you again.”

“Never.” He meant it, so earnest as he shook his head and vowed to her that he’d never leave her to spend Christmas alone again. “I promise.”

She smiled and stood on her toes to kiss him again. Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom. She’d never tire of the way he’d say ‘I love you’ nor the way his lips felt against hers. 

“Neville? Tell me again.”

He laid her down gently on the bed and hovered over her. 

“I love you, Hermione.”


End file.
